


Wishful Thinking

by sweetNsimple



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Aziraphale, Armageddidn't, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Genie Crowley, M/M, No Armageddon, Other Things Happen, Protective Crowley, Romance, demon Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 16:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19177138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: “Name’s Crowley,” he said, rather proud of himself.  He’d changed his name a few thousand years ago.  “I’m like you, but the complete opposite.  You see, if you think Gabriel giving you a magical teakettle was a joke, then you’d have your sensitive sensibilities shocked and astounded to find that my being a genie is also a joke.  Prank.  Punishment.  Something along those lines.”“You must have been very bad at your job.”“Yes!  I was.  Got lots of commendations and praise from lower management for it too.  Tell you what, the other demons were just jealous.”“Ah, well – hm.”  The angel digested this slowly with a face of consternation.  “I see.”~::~Inspired by Neil Gaiman's 'Trigger Warnings: A Calendar of Tales, October Tale' (2015)





	Wishful Thinking

“Well, _hallo_ – thanks for rubbin’ one off and giving me some fresh air.”  The demon of Hell, the original tempter of humanity, one of numerous Fallen, offered a toothy, serpentine smile to the startled man gawking before him.  “You get three wishes!  What a good day to be _you_ , isn’t it?”  A brief onceover.  “And, what a good day to be _me_ , but you are cute, aren’t you?”

“Beg your pardon?” the mortal squeaked, red in the cheeks.  His pretty blue eyes were comically wide.

“Right-o,” chirped the demon, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.  “My clever little creature, you get three wishes – only rule is that you can’t wish for more wishes, got it?  Now, go.  Tell me what it is you desire.  It is my _duty_ to fulfill your needs – given that you have only three of them.”

“Um,” the creature answered eloquently.  “I think there has been some sort of mistake.  Perhaps – um – even a prank?”

“How’s that?” the demon asked, hoping that one of the three wishes was a good snog and roll in the sack.  That, he would happily do himself.  My, but what a sublime human.  Short, curly hair so pale it was about white.  Soft around all his edges and with pink lips meant for sin.  This was one of those rare situations where he didn’t mind so much living in a rusty teakettle.

“Well, you see, that is, it seems…  Oh, bother, allow me to just – ” blinding white light infused the entire kitchen they stood in, so pure and _righteous_ that the demon tumbled back with a hiss.  In his panic, he overturned a small round table and hid behind it, like retreating from gunfire. 

“Not human!” he screeched.  “ _Not_.  Human.  Got it.  Understood.  Now, please turn off the Holier-than-thou Grace, nobody has to see that.  For Hell’s sake, I think I might be blind now…”

“Oh, my poor dear,” the angel murmured.  The room returned to its prior evening-golden haze.  “I – well, I do apologize for any misunderstandings.”

“What the Hell is an angel doing with my kettle?”

“It was a gift.”

“A _gift_?  To an _angel of the Lord_?  Thing’s all rust and hot glue!  I should know, everyone just wants the wishes, no one took the time to actually take care of it!”

“Well, that’s just it…”  The angel was grimacing when he cautiously peeked over the table.  He still held the kettle in one hand and a rag in the other.  On the kitchen counter next to him was the solution he had been rubbing over the teapot, working hard at the rust and stains.  The handle had already been taken off and put to the side.  “I _am_ trying to make it better.”

“Well, who gave it to you in the first place?  Practically an insult, that is.”

The angel muttered too lowly for him to hear.

“What was that?”

“It was my brother!  Gabriel…  Oooh, I see what he was doing now.  It is so clear to me!  You know, it was as he gave me this that he made suggestions of what I should wish for should the occasion ever arise.  He is such a b-b- _bad angel_.  Such a, well, a bully!”

“Go on, let it all out.  Tell us how you _really_ feel.”

“I do not appreciate the implications of this act at all!”

“Incredible.  I almost believe that you are angry about this.”  He sighed as he stood up.  Dusted off his pants.  They were probably out of style again.  When was the last time someone let him out?  Must have been ages.  Somehow, though, he thought the fashion had taken at least a few baby steps in the time he was gone, perhaps more so than the angel’s attire suggested.  Looked almost like something the demon had seen earlier in the century.  What year was it?  Ah, didn’t matter.  He wouldn’t be out long enough to care.

“Well, if he gave you some ideas, this shouldn’t take long.”  He righted the table so that he could claim it as his throne.  “Lay them on me.”

The angel grumbled unhappily and then said, louder so that he could hear.  “I would rather _not_ , if that is all the same to you.  I have no need for wishes, I can perform my own miracles.”

“Lots of paperwork involved there,” he reasoned.  “Wouldn’t it just be best to have some of the things you want, the things you _need_ … without management finding out?  Almost like having miracles for free.”

The angel squinted at him.  “How do you know about upper management?  Forgive me, but, _who_ are you?  And I suppose, if it is not too rude, _what_ are you?”

“Name’s Crowley,” he said, rather proud of himself.  He’d changed his name a few thousand years ago.  “I’m like you, but the complete opposite.  You see, if you think Gabriel giving you a magical teakettle was a joke, then you’d have your sensitive sensibilities shocked and astounded to find that my being a _genie_ is also a joke.  Prank.  Punishment.  Something along those lines.”

“You were made a genie… as penance?”  The angel was, true to form, shocked and astounded.  “By _who_?”

“Beelzebub herself, Angel,” Crowley answered.  “With some help from others.  I hear there was a lot of paperwork involved, but they assured me the whole time they shoved me into the pot that it was worth it.  They even had to ask for rights and sign agreements with the Islamic department.  Whole boatload of trouble just to make me suffer.”

“You must have been very bad at your job.”

“Yes!  I was.  Got lots of commendations and praise from lower management for it too.  Tell you what, the other demons were just jealous.”

“Ah, well – hm.”  The angel digested this slowly with a face of consternation.  “I see.”

“And you are…?”  Crowley gestured with his arm for the angel to speak.  “Here I am, telling you all about myself.  No idea who you are.”  He narrowed his eyes.  “Or do I?  You know, now that I think about you, you do look a little familiar…”

“I,” and the angel pushed back his shoulders and puffed out his chest, chin up high, “am Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale!”  Crowley snapped his fingers together and grinned wickedly.  “I _do_ know you!”

This flabberghasted the poor, feathery fellow.  “You do?”

“Yeah, we worked the same gig for awhile.”

“We did?”

“You were supposed to guard the apple tree!”

The air was sucked out of the room and a tension so rigid set in that the vacuum of space would have been more welcoming.  Crowley snickered.  “Good times.  Good times.”

“Crowley…”  The angel’s pretty blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.  “Did your name use to be… _Crawly_ , by any chance?”

“I haven’t gone by that name in a _long_ time.  Millenia, really.”

“It was _you_!  You tempted the poor woman!”

“Oh, _please_.  What could be so bad about knowing the difference between good and bad?  Satan knows, _we_ can’t seem to forget it.  Look at us!  Old enough to have created galaxies, but we can’t get along with the opposition to save our own wings.  I made a suggestion and Eve was curious enough to take it to heart.”

“Yes, well – ”  Aziraphale stumbled over his words.  “If you did it, then it _must_ be bad.”

“Where’s your flaming sword?”  Crowley looked around as if the angel may have mounted it in his kitchen of all places.  “You had a sword, flaming like anything.  I saw it from a distance, you know.  Thought to myself, ‘Now, I don’t want to mess with _him_ ’.  I almost talked to you, but, y’know.”  He motioned airily with a hand.  “Sword and all.”

Aziraphale muttered again.  Seemed to be a habit of his when he was nervous.

“I’m sorry, you _what_?”

“I gave it away!”  Aziraphale bemoaned the pregnant Eve, the dangerous outside, the potential _risks_ the poor humans faced.  He explained himself quite shame-faced.

“So you just… gave it away.”

“I told you why.”

“By Satan,” Crowley whispered, harboring a small crush for this hopeless idiot.  “You know, wouldn’t that be something – if I actually did the right thing and you did the wrong thing?  If we got it opposite?”

Aziraphale, despite himself, chuckled – and then, quickly, frowned.  “No!  That wouldn’t be funny at all.  I don’t think you understand how much I’ve worried over this.  For 6,000 years!”

“Eh,” he offered.  “You’re an angel, I doubt you can do anything bad.”

The angel deflated in relief.  “Oh, thank goodness.”

“However,” the demon purred.  “You _can_ do me.  Which is the same as doing something bad, but can also be very, _very_ good.”

“No!”

“You sure?  Don’t even have to waste one of your wishes on it.”

That threw the angel for a loop.  “I wouldn’t?”

“Not at all.”  He slithered closer, crooning.  “I _want_ you, my pretty, pretty angel.”

“Don’t try to tempt me, foul demon!” the angel cried.  “You must – you must want to use me to your own end.  If you bed an angel, I bet Hell wouldn’t make you do penance from a kettle.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Crowley realized, having not thought of that.  “That _would_ be nice, wouldn’t it?  Then again, no one’s asked for a report from me for ages.  I think they may have lost track of me.  I doubt they’ll come for a report _now_.”

“Well, I would just rather not.  _My_ side does demand that I report in regularly.  And, apparently, Gabriel already knows you’re here, so…  There will be no carnal sinning of the physical sort to be had here, my dear.”

“Foul demon,” said demon mocked in an offending high tone.  “ _My dear_.  Which is it?”

“Both!”

“Alright, then.”

“I mean, foul demon!”

“Good to know.”

“That is – ”  The angel’s shoulders drooped.  “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“What doesn’t?”

“Well, either you want to sleep with me because it will get you out of trouble with Hell or you want to sleep with me so that I will use my wishes and let you get back to… whatever it is you do when you are not granting wishes.  I wish I knew which it was.”

“NEITHER,” Crowley shouted, not meaning to, and the words stumbled off his tongue without his permission.  “Such a soft, _heavenly_ feast, I want to sink my teeth right into you and make you scream from unending pleasure and sin.  I want it all for myself, have already offered to do it, no wish needed, and I don’t even care if Hell never finds out.”  He sucked in a deep breath, choked on it, and then continued.  “I want to show you divinity of the dirty kind, human worship of another body that will make you quiver and shake apart like the world is crumbling beneath you.  The moment I laid mine damned eyes on you, I felt fiendish lust of such intensity that I wanted the first wish you made to be someone bending you over your kitchen counter and giving you a good, hard pounding the likes that no mortal can accomplish.  I wanted you to want _me_ so that I could make you a whimpering, sloppy mess on your floor, covered in the evidence of your completion and begging for more.”

The silence was all-encompassing.  Crowley had, with each confession, taken a small step until his small steps had pushed Aziraphale into retreat.  The poor angel was pressed between him and the wall, chest heaving and breath stuttering.  His eyes were dark, face red, and his palms were pressed flat to the wall, shaking, trying to keep himself contained. 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath so ragged that it was almost a wail of need.  “I see, I see the mistake I made there.  I said ‘ _I wish_ ’, and then you had to answer.  I see what I did there.  I will, I will certainly not make _that_ mistake again.  I feel, however, that my wish did not call for such a, a long confession.”

“It didn’t,” Crowley admitted.  “Your blush is just _delightful_.”

“By all that is Holy,” Aziraphale tremored.  “I have never before felt such a strong urge to commit violence against another being.”

“That wasn’t quite what I was going for.”

“I will not be _teased_ and _embarrassed_ in my own home!”

“Oi, that’s not – ”

Now Aziraphale was on the prowl, pushing up against and then almost through Crowley, forcing the demon into retreat.  “That is exactly what you intended!  How dare you spill such filth and temptation!  I cannot _believe_ that I am about to have sex with you!”

“Wait, what?”

“Pants off!” Aziraphale yelled at him, furious and a lovely pink.  His own hands were pulling at his bowtie and roughly shoving his clothes off.  “I promise you, as an Angel of the Lord, that if you fail to make me scream from unending pleasure, I will smite you.  More than that, when I do so, I will make _certain_ to let all of Hell know that it was because you failed to live up to your bragging promises and was a lousy lay.”

Crowley, a demon of Hell, hated to find that he might be eternally devoted, physical vessel and demonic essence all, to this frumpy angel.  “Oh, Angel, I am about to rock your _world_ , I assure you.”  He didn’t even bother with taking his clothes off.  He snapped his fingers and they were simply gone.  Well, they _should_ have simply gone.  In his excitement and distraction, his clothes caught on fire and disintegrated to dust as Aziraphale watched, frozen and startled.

“Well, what did you stop for!”  Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the waist of his slacks and pulled him in close.  “I was quite enjoying the show.”

“Kiss me first,” the angel demanded.  “Or I will turn you away now.”

“No threats necessary, I assure you.”  Though it was turning him on greatly.  Crowley tilted his head toward the angel, ready to devour him – and was inexplicably, without him fully understanding it, gentled by the first touch of lips.  Like the first taste of winter after a blistering hot summer, Crowley found himself slowing down to feel and indulge.  Aziraphale used chapstick, or something of the like.  His pink lips were soft and moist.  Tasted like vanilla, if Crowley knew any flavor at all.  Must have had hot chocolate recently, he detected, as his tongue swept in and he took from the other’s mouth.  Aziraphale made a delicious groaning sound that vibrated through his entire existence, pulling him close so that his naked body grinded against the angel. 

“You have some experience,” the demon murmured, pulling away for only a moment to nip at Aziraphale’s jaw and chin.

“I have found that literary genius and, occasionally, playwriters have a certain effect on me.  Now, since you have established no artistic or written skill with which to impress me, you are at a distinct disadvantage compared to my past exploratory adventures in sexual gratification with the corporal form.”

“A distinct disadvantage, got it.” 

“I have high expectations.” 

“The highest,” Crowley agreed, sucking bruises down Aziraphale’s throat.

“I could get in trouble for this.”

“It will be _so_ worth it.”

“Promises, promises.”

Crowley grabbed the angel under his thighs and lifted him clear off the floor.  In three strides, he had his holy feast parked on the kitchen counter where most delectable meals are prepared for devouring.  “Promises that I will fulfill, have no doubt about that, Angel.”  He had to look up now and pull the angel down for more slow and lovely kisses.  “I will have you _begging_ for more.”

Aziraphale wrapped his juicy thighs around Crowley, a hand in the demon’s red hair, and tugged him in tight.  “Then _get on it with it_.”

The demon, despite all bravado and plans, moaned like a virgin.

~::~

Crowley held the angel tucked in close to his side.  The angel turned out to have a bedroom with an actual bed, though a great cloud of dust had erupted when their bodies had collided with it.  Sleep was not one of Aziraphale’s preferred human activities.

“I suppose,” the cheeky angel murmured pompously against Crowley’s neck, “that I will keep you around.  For now, at least.”

“Glad to be of service,” he rumbled, still somewhat breathless.  His physical body throbbed in ways he hadn’t expected it to after bedding the seemingly innocent angel.  By the devil, but Aziraphale was dangerous with his pants off.

Probably just as dangerous with his pants on, Crowley decided.  That mouth of his and his eyes and such. 

“No, really,” he reiterated.  “Whenever you want to go another round or a dozen.”

There was a content silence as they – though Crowley would never admit it aloud – _cuddled_.  Aziraphale was as soft as a cloud and so bloody warm.  It pleased the demon who had once slithered through Eden as a snake.  He tangled his legs with Aziraphale’s and pushed his cold toes against the angel’s fever-warm calves.  The angel hummed and allowed him.

“So what kind of prank was Gabriel trying to pull on you?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier.  You were going on about how this was a prank and he’s a bully.  A _bad angel_ , you called him.”  He snickered at the memory.  Aziraphale had worked him over like he had done sex as a profession at some point in his long life, but couldn’t bear to call Gabriel a bastard even behind closed doors.  It was adorable.

Apparently, Aziraphale did not share his amusement.  He had gone tense against Crowley and his gentle fingers stopped petting the demon’s head and shoulders.

“Angel?”

“If it’s all the same to you,” he whispered, all but curling in on himself, as if trying to protect himself from harm.  “I would rather not talk about it.”

Wordlessly, angry at someone who was not Aziraphale, Crowley held the angel even closer and snapped up a quilt to cover them.

“I didn’t wish for that.”

“Don’t think twice about it.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Oh, shut up.  I didn’t do it to be nice.  Maybe _I’m_ cold.  Ever thought of that?”

“This must be a demon thing.”

“ _What_ must be a demon thing?”

 “Not wanting gratitude.”

“I don’t deserve gratitude.”

Aziraphale squirmed just enough to make eye contact.  He feathered his thumb over the ridge of one cheekbone, fluttering over his eyebrow.  “You have very expressive eyes.”

“They’re ssssnake eyesss.”  He cursed himself for his nervous tic. 

“They’re beautiful,” the angel said, so tenderly that Crowley wanted to bite him.

So he did. 

The angel groaned with tired pleasure as Crowley nipped and lapped and nibbled on his collarbone. 

“I _do_ like that.”

“I noticed, Angel.”

“I am quite done in for tonight, however.  Would you mind if we just… laid here?”

“And did what?”

The angel said nothing, but pushed and pulled until he was on his back and Crowley was laying half on him, half to his side.

“Hmmm…  That is nice,” the angel murmured.  “I usually do not indulge in sleep.  A waste of time, really.  However, if it is alright with you, I would like to make an exception for right now.  This feels like a good time to take a post-coital nap.”

“I’m all game,” he agreed, already half-asleep.  “Just let me get comfortable first.”

“…  O-oh.  This is…. Unexpected.”  Aziraphale squirmed a bit as a very large snake curled snugly around him.

“You don’t like it?” the snake hissed, looking at him with familiar eyes.

“No, no…  I’ll get used to it.”  The angel petted dark scales, smooth and warm to the touch.  “At the least, I am safe from your perverse intentions while I rest.”

“Asssss if you do not like my perverssssse intentionsssss.”

“Not while I rest.”  He pushed Crowley’s long, smooth head to rest just beneath his.  “I think I enjoy this.  It’s like having one very long arm hold me.”

~::~

Aziraphale wailed two days later when they finally woke up.  “My bookshop!”

“You have a bookshop?”

~::~

World War II was destructive and horrible.  Crowley despised it – the death, the despair, the smoke, the desolate cities.  The countless soldiers that marched in with terror and courage and limped back out, if they came back out at all.  Other demons would have felt glee to lay low God’s creations. 

Crowley had always been a terrible demon.  Hell, most of the things he had gotten commendations for before Beelzebub had thrown him in a teapot weren’t even his fault.  Humans had done it to themselves and he had been on the sidelines, looking on and disappointed.  Sometimes even horrified.  He took credit where it wasn’t owed if only so that Downstairs would think that he was up to no good. 

He wondered who was taking credit for this clusterfuck, even as he stalked Aziraphale across the warzone.  The angel was carrying his most cherished collection with him, all books of prophecy, and all but waltzed with confidence up to a – well, damn it all – a church of all places.  Aziraphale had been making an attempt to not let Crowley in on the operation, but he had figured out enough to know that the angel had trusted the wrong human and was very likely to be discorporated if Crowley did not intervene.

He prowled the perimeters of the church, all but gnashing his teeth.  Walking on consecrated ground could be the death of him.  Literally.  He’d never dared before.

He clenched his jaw and took the first few steps at a fast run, skidding in like he was afraid something might try to catch him and throw him back out.  Luckily, or unlikely for him, no such thing happened.  Instead, the floor beneath his feet _burned_ with the intensity of the sun on bare rocks and sand.  It was as if he was barefoot as he winced and limped and practically danced to Aziraphale’s rescue. 

He apologized to the nazis holding guns and the befuddled angel for the disturbance.

“And this is?” asked the woman.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called, not even looking at her.  “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from making a very big mistake.”  He hopped about and flinched and hissed.  This was all very uncomfortable.  He imagined that his feet did not feel as if they were burning away and tried to focus long enough to save his blasted angel from annihilation. 

It was one bomb and a destroyed church later that he handed the books of prophecy over to the angel and gingerly walked away from the rubble.  Blisters, he was _certain_ that he had blisters –

And an angel, kissing him deeply.  He certainly had that.

“Angel –”

“You saved my books,” he blubbered.  “You saved my _books_.”

“I saved you too, you daft thing!”

“Oh, _Crowley_ …  But I didn’t even wish for you to do this…”

Something in that voice called to the organ in his chest that served as a human heart and wrenched it in a tight fist.  The demon sniffed disdainfully and made a dismissive motion with a sloppy hand wave.  “Let’s get home, shall we?”

~::~

“I really _should_ dust in here.”

As soon as Aziraphale’s back was turned, Crowley snapped his fingers.  It turned out to be a terrible mistake.

The angel sneezed incessantly as what amounted to a desert storm assaulted their senses, only slowly dissipating.  What was revealed when they could wash the grit from their eyes was an impeccably polished and glistening conglomeration of shelves and surfaces in the bookstore.  Standing within it were two ethereal entities camouflaged as dust bunnies.

“What in Heaven was _that_ about?” Aziraphale wheezed.  He snapped his own fingers and he alone was clean. 

Crowley sniffed disdainfully and chose to pretend that he was also clean, though he was very much not.  “You _really_ should dust more regularly.”

“Well…  Yes, I suppose I should.”  The angel gave his newly transformed bookshop a fond glance.  “It really transforms the place.  I didn’t even realize it had gotten so bad.”

“Angel, a lady had an asthma attack in here.”

“That was some time ago.”

“That was _yesterday.”_

“What is time to immortal beings made of cosmic energy?”

“You had to use a miracle to make sure an ambulance wasn’t called.”

“Hush, you.”  Aziraphale diddled another look around, pointedly not making eye contact.  “Nonetheless, I am… grateful.  I didn’t even have to use a wish.  Th-”

“ _Please_ don’t thank me.  I’d rather you not.  I’d rather you do _anything_ but that.”

“Then… how about dinner.  At the Ritz!  Oh, I do love their food.”

Crowley hemmed and hawed and drove them over at top speed with absolutely no hesitation.  Aziraphale was openly in awe of his driving prowess – “I feared I would be discorporated by your carelessness behind the wheel!” – and just as openly in awe with the Bentley Crowley had called into existence upon realizing that he might be here for a time.

“Decided against anything… newer?”

“What do ya mean?”

“The car.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I believe that this is a rather… antiquated model.”

“And. Your.  Point.  _Issssss_?”

“Oh, nothing.  Nothing at all.  A very nice vehicle indeed.  Quite charming.”

“I thought so myself.  A true beauty.”

Crowley was not just referring to the car.  Sadly, Aziraphale did not seem to recognize this, nor Crowley’s pointed look.

~::~

“You know, I am getting _quite_ irate with these humans trying to steal my private collections.  I keep telling them that they are display only!  And yet, not a moment later, I have to stop someone from walking out the door with my _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ signed by Lewis Carroll himself!  A personal message, just for me.  Almost walked right out the door!  I am not pleased.  That is why I keep other copies of Lewis Carroll’s work on the shelf, so that they don’t try to take _my_ copy.”

“Have you considered just… not running a bookshop?  You don’t seem keen on selling any of your books.”  This was something Crowley had observed over the few weeks he and Aziraphale had inhabited the same space. 

There was always a good reason for not selling his books, and Aziraphale went to great lengths to give these very good reasons to his patrons.  Crowley had the feeling that there had been a time when Aziraphale simply refused to sell anything, but had possibly since grown to realize that a bookshop was not a very good business with a profit of something negative to zero.  Having perused the shelves and aisles, Crowley found that Aziraphale had his own favorites in areas labeled as displays and then much smaller selections of books that were actually for sale and were generally cheap copies of the books he refused to part with.

“But I love my bookshop,” the angel said, and gave Crowley a truly pitiful look.  “It’s my bookshop.”

“Alright, then.”  Crowley sighed.  “Let me see what I can do.” 

Later, between the time Aziraphale went to make tea and came back with said tea, great change had occurred.

He paused at the sight of his changed store.  “By all that is Holy…”

“Would you _stop_ that?”

Aziraphale’s smile was watery, his eyes too bright.  “Oh, _Crowley_ …”

“Don’t say anything!  I did it to stop you from whining and moping all over the place.”  He mumbled about how dramatic the angel was.

“You did this for me.”

“Don’t blow up your own ego now.”

Aziraphale’s priceless – both in monetary and personal value – volumes were all locked away in glass cases, designs like angels and snakes etched into them.  They were decorative and impenetrable.  They also took up quite a bit of space as it was not an exaggeration to say that Aziraphale wanted to keep most of his books, if not all of them.  Even the cheap romance paperbacks he kept around for lonely wives and shy teenage girls. 

Not that Crowley had ever looked at the cheap romance paperbacks.  He wasn’t at all invested in them.

“You care about my books.”

“I would care to have some peace and quiet instead of listening to you go on and on about your books.”

Aziraphale swept in and rained sweet kisses on him – his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. 

“You spoil me,” Aziraphale said.  “You forget that I can do all of this myself.”

“Don’t for the sin of me understand why you haven’t, then.”

“I was sure to get to it someday.”  He tucked his fingers into the V of Crowley’s relaxed black Henley.  “Since you did such a great favor for me, perhaps I could… do you a favor?”  He was pulling so lightly, leading Crowley to the stairs and ascending as if the demon was on a leash made of the softest, lightest silk in the world. 

“Is it _really_ a favor if I know you are going to enjoy this as much as I am?”

“Should I stop?”

“Oh, no, no, no…  Please, favor away.”

~::~

Despite how clever Aziraphale was, it took the angel a matter of bloody years – almost _eighty_ of them – to realize that something was amiss.  How could someone so clever be so stupid?

It happened so suddenly and inconspicuously that Crowley himself didn’t notice at first.

“You know what sounds lovely right now,” the angel said into the comfortable silence, both of them with their wine in the back of the bookshop.  Aziraphale was idly reading while Crowley played Plants Vs. Zombies on his phone.  “Lemon Meringue Pie.”  He hummed appreciatively at the thought and flipped a page.

Crowley distractedly snapped his fingers.

“It’s the strangest thing,” the angel began, a fork miraculously appearing in his hand so that he could daintily enjoy the large slice of pie that had appeared at his elbow.  “I’ve just realized that I still have two wishes.”

The phone in Crowley’s hand caught fire without warning.  “Isssss that right?” the demon asked.  “Well, no need to usssse them, am I right?  You’ve got everything you could ever want.”

“What happens if I do?  Use them, I mean.”

Crowley stared at the dancing flames in his hand.  They did not burn him, but were eating at his black sweater merrily. 

“Crowley, what would happen to you?”

He swallowed reflexively.  “It won’t come to that.  It shouldn’t.  Why, did you need something?  Anything?  Can’t you miracle it up yourself?  Hell, I’ll do it for free.  ‘Cause I’m in a good mood.”  He curled his body in close.  Protectively.  Guarded.  “Sssseeee?  No need to use the wisshessss.”

The angel left his desk to wrap his body and wings around the demon.  Within the cocoon of feathers and flesh, Crowley managed to relax marginally.

“I know it hasn’t been long, but I…  I would be very lonely without you, I think.  Having you here with me has made me very happy.”

“Is that so?  Ironic, that an angel likes having a demon around.”

“Indeed.  You know…  I never told you what Gabriel said I should wish for…  Should the opportunity ever arise.  Mind you, I am _not_ making any wishes.”

“Got it.”

“Right, so…”  The angel shuffled around a bit, wings fluffing up and fluttering in embarrassment.  He cleared his throat.  “He said I should, well, consider having a fitter vessel.  More muscle, less gut.  The like.  Something more fitting a soldier of Heaven, an Angel of the Lord, then a…  Well, a ‘foodie’.”

“He _what_?”

“I know!  I couldn’t believe that Gabriel himself knew the term _foodie_.  He must have learned it just for my sake.”

“That bastard told you to lose weight?”

“Well…  Yes.  He said that I should be a lean, mean fighting machine.”

“You?  _Lean_?  Angel…  You know you are…  Well, that you are…”

“Soft?  Yes, I know.”  There was despair in his voice.  “But, well, human cuisine is so good…”

“Gorgeous,” Crowley breathed.  “Breathtaking.  Beautiful.  Handsome.  _Sexy_.  I didn’t even know you a minute before I wanted to give you a good shag, you remember that?  Gabriel’s got a sword so far up his ass, it’s messing with his brain.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I also think he needs a good lay to get over himself, preferably with Hellfire.”

“No, no, that I am… handsome.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Please?”

“You’re everything, Angel,” he admitted, unable to hold up his own against the other.  “Have been since Day One.  How could you not be?”

“Wait, Crowley…  Are you…”

“What else did he say you should ask for?”  Crowley knew what Aziraphale meant to ask and he honestly was not ready to answer.

The angel had to take a long moment to reorient himself and answer.  “I should want to be… well, a better angel, essentially.  I use miracles too frivolously.  Some of my actions border on… _temptations_.  I am going Native, becoming too human.  I am too naïve, too gullible.  I care too much for the humans, I am too materialistic, I am…  Well, when it comes down to it, Gabriel’s complaints about my being and performance are not all just about my weight.”  He smiled so sadly as he rested his chin on Crowley’s shoulder that the demon could hear it in his voice.  “I imagine he wants me to be a better soldier.”

“Well, he’s full of shit and I know what _I’d_ wish for.”

“What’s that?”

“Him, face-first in a pile of cow manure.  It’s no less than he deserves.  Merciful, really.”

“Oh, Crowley, that wouldn’t be wise.”

“Well, _he’s_ an idiot, why do I have to be the wise one?  Listen to him, giving you all the worth of street litter.  You are… so much more than that.”

“I imagine you’re biased.  I have been told that I am _very good_ at carnal acts.”

Crowley had sung Aziraphale’s praises more than enough times to know that Aziraphale should realize that he was more than just _very good_.  He plodded on.  “ _He’s_ the biased one.  All he wants to do is hurt you.  He knows you’re a better angel than he’ll ever be.  All he wants is to have a dick measuring contest with Lucy himself.  You actually _care_.  He’s like plenty of demons that I know – jealous, petty, and cowardly.  He found the chinks in your armor and he’s been beating his smarmy face against them, hoping to bring you low.  Well, he’s going to fail.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why.”

“Please tell me?”

“Angel, you _know_.”

“Please, my dear?  My darling?”  Aziraphale pressed kisses along his throat.  “Should I make my own confession first?”

“Your what?”

“When you saved me.  And saved my books.  That’s when.”

“When…”

Aziraphale whispered into his ear, so close that his breath made Crowley’s skin tingle, “That’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

The demon whimpered.  “Angel, don’t…  Is that true?”

“Very much so.”

“Damn it all,” he hissed, and twisted his body so that he could push the angel back and land on top of him.  “You precious, clever _fool_ , you can’t just go around giving your love to _my sort_.”  He was attacking the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt, desperate for skin.

“But I have.  And you?  What about you, my dear?”

“From the start,” he gasped.  He grinded himself against the angel’s thigh.  “From the very beginning.  You must know.  Satan, you’re perfect for me.”

“There is – there is one last thing Gabriel said I should want.”

“I do not give two flying fucks about what _Gabriel_ thinks.”

“This is important.”  Aziraphale pulled him down so that he could make his shirt disappear with a snap of his fingers and attack his nipples with his warm mouth.  He said words against Crowley’s skin that he more felt than heard.  “Courage.  You know, because he believes me to be a coward.  That I do not want to be a soldier because I am afraid.”

“You’re not.  You’re just… _good_.  You don’t want to fight.  That’s death and destruction and property damage.  You’re too smart for that.”

Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath.  Incredible, how much they breathed and gasped and heaved for all that they did not actually need to breathe.  “I feel, also, that I am courageous.  Here, with you right now…  I am terrified.  I want to go so slow, a courting of thousands of years, but I also…  Do not want to let time pass us by.  I want this, with you, for as long as I can have it.”  He kissed the dip of Crowley’s collarbone.  “I am brave enough to take a chance that you want this as much as I do.”

Wait, something about that didn’t sound quite right.

“Angel?”

“I wish you were free of your contractual obligations as a genie.”

Somewhere above them in Aziraphale’s kitchen, a beloved and well-cared for tea kettle miraculously caught fire and then shattered, falling as ash into nothing.  Miraculously, not a single mark was left behind from the self-destruction. 

For the first time in hundreds of years, Crowley felt that he could actually breathe.  He felt that he could spread his wings and go anywhere.  The freedom of choice was so encompassing that he popped out of existence just to see how far he could go. 

He whooped with joy in Alpha Centauri, then vanished to the volcanic surface of Io to laugh in the lava.  He reappeared on the surface of a sun to bask in its warmth like he hadn’t gotten to do in so long.  On Earth, he curled up in the deep underwater volcanoes that brought him great comfort.  Swimming to the surface, he erupted from the ocean and howled with laughter, freedom so sweet that he could not imagine anything finer.

He landed on the beach, still grinning like a lunatic.  “Hey, Angel, can you believe – ” Except Aziraphale wasn’t there.  Crowley stood alone on the sand, looking about for a person that was still in England. 

“I expected this, you know.”

Crowley hissed like a thousand snakes, all of them Really Pissed Off.  “ _You_.”

Gabriel smiled at him.  “Yes!  Me.  No Aziraphale, I see.”  He leaned in, still too far away for Crowley to swipe at without charging the archangel.  His expression was conspiring.  “This was always how I hoped this would happen.  The only part that did not go as expected was how little time it took!  That speaks of true desperation on Aziraphale’s part.  I expected, oh, I don’t know…  Five, six thousand years?  It hasn’t even been a century and he already let you go, thinking you’d stay of your own free will.  You know, I’ve always thought him to be a bit airheaded.  Somewhat… _gullible_.”

“You hurt him,” Crowley snarled.  “You hurt _my_ Angel!”

“Yours?  Rather possessive of you.  He is an Angel of the _Lord_.  He’s not your accessory.” 

“And he’s not your punching bag!”

“I feel like you see me as the bad guy here…  Am I right in saying that?  You are definitely angry with me.”

“Aziraphale is _perfect_.  You talk to him like he’s nothing!  You put these doubts in his head, doubts that he should never have had, and this whole time – this _whole time_ – you’ve been planning to completely destroy his trust and faith.”

“Hold on a minute, I didn’t do that last part.  You did, I believe, by leaving the very second he set you free.  Do you know how long you’ve been gone?  Hint, it’s been three months.  You would think it had all of eternity, the way he’s moping around, _sulking_.”

“I couldn’t have been….”

“Oh, but you _were_.”  There was real malice in Gabriel’s violet gaze.  Terrible glee.  “I’ve never seen the hopeful buffoon so deflated.  So downtrodden.  So… fragile.  You know, I think he might actually fall in line now.  He took a big chance on you and you let him down so fast and hard, well, it’s a miracle he didn’t just Fall altogether.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes.”

“Not Aziraphale.”

“The one and only.”

Crowley wanted so badly to bash the archangel’s head against the core of the Earth.  He wanted so terribly to spit Hellfire at the smarmy bastard and watch him light up like a Christmas tree.  He wanted…

He wanted Gabriel to repent.

The fight left him in less than a moment.  His rage quieted.

Gabriel’s alarm spiked.

“Then I need to get back home and give my gorgeous angel all of my love.”  He said it without pause, though his every demonic instinct squirmed and snapped at the overwhelming _mush_.  “God really did accomplish perfection with Aziraphale, let me tell you.  He loves all humans.  Heals the wounded, punishes the wicked, gives hope to the desperate.  He’s gone above and beyond in ending wars and putting out fires.  He is both merciful and merciless.  As They intended, y’know?  He’s a very powerful angel, to tempt an old demon like me.”

Gabriel’s entire body was swaying away from Crowley, every line taut with disgust and envy.  “He’s not _really_ powerful at all.  He is the opposite, as a matter of fact.”

“He is _very_ powerful and all mine.”

“Now, hold on –”

“My honey pie.”

“This is just unsettling –”

“My sweetheart.”

“Really, this is very disturbing.”

“ _Mi amore_.”

“Is this necessary?”

“My Azira-babe.”

“STOP.”

Crowley subsided with a smirk.  The veins in Gabriel’s neck were bulging and his face was almost as purple as his eyes.

“I have you to thank,” the demon purred.  The archangel went from purple to green comically fast.  “Never would have met him without you.  I make love to my angelcake for _hours_ on end and it is all because you gave him a rusty, old teakettle.”

“What have I done?” wheezed the destroyed angel, true despair on his face.

“Best of all, he can’t even Fall because of this!  Didn’t you hear?  He committed a selfless act of love for me.  Doesn’t matter that I’m a demon.  He’ll probably get a commendation from Upper Management while you…  Well, can archangels get demoted for conspiring to make another angel Fall?”

“I never – ”

“But you did.  You said as much, remember?”

“You are an unholy creature!”

“Doesn’t make you any better than me.”  He clapped the shaken angel on his shoulder and gave him a one-finger salute of the rude sort.  “If you’ll _excuse_ me…  I have to shower my baby boo with selfless devotion.”

“I am _begging_ you…”

“Give special attention to my bubble buns’ bubble butt, if you get my drift.”

“I _hate_ you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”  And, with that, Crowley shot home as fast as he could.

He couldn’t _really_ smite Gabriel, as much as he wanted to.  They weren’t technically of the same grade, which meant that Gabriel would probably win in a fight no matter how much Crowley cheated.  At best, then, he could mentally scar the archangel and force the bastard to face one of his greatest fears –

That Aziraphale was more favored than him.  Gabriel’s inflated ego could never handle the thought, so he lashed out.  Of course, his lashing out had created a whole new problem for him.  Now the angel he was jealous of was receiving unconditional and all-encompassing love. 

Gabriel would never have what Aziraphale had and Crowley hoped that it ate away at the asshole’s Grace until his feathers fell off.

When he came back into his body, he was standing in the bookshop.  A weathered man in impeccable, if not outdated, clothing was wearily dusting the bookshelves.

Crowley had gathered enough as he had sped over to know that he had been gone for almost three months.  Not even a blink of an eye for their kind.  Possibly long enough to be history’s smallest eternity for someone with a broken heart and trampled faith. 

He choked on his tongue, not sure what to say first to the defeated angel that had not even noticed his presence yet.  “I love you!” was what came out, and rather loudly.

Aziraphale dropped his duster and turned in shock.  “Crowley?”

“I came back.”  He stumbled forward into the angel’s chest and held him tightly.  “I travelled all over the place, just to make sure that I _could_.  And then I turned to talk to you about it and…  You weren’t there.  I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

“You were overwhelmed.”  Aziraphale was beginning to smile, a slow and beautiful creation.  Lights began to dance in his eyes.  “Excited, I can imagine.”

“Come with me this time.  Call it a honeymoon.”

“A honeymoon?”

“I’ll make the wedding bands along the way.”

“You’ll be mine forever?” Aziraphale asked.  “You just got your freedom back.”

“And I’ll still be free.  Being with you isn’t a prison sentence.  You’re everything.  I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without you.”

“Yes,” the angel breathed.  “Yes!  Oh, I am still so very angry with you, and so very happy.  This is actually a very confusing cocktail of emotions.  I am not sure if I’ll start crying or hitting you.”

“Please don’t do that second one.”

“I might still.  Not a word from you!  As soon as you were free, you were gone.  Can you imagine how used and low I felt?”

“Having been a genie for a few centuries where literally everyone who set me free used me for three wishes and then callously shoved me back in a teakettle, yeah, I think I have some idea.”

“Don’t _do_ that!  I want to be angry at you!”

“I love you.”

“How _dare_ you.”

“How ‘bout a date at the Ritz first?  I’ll propose in front of all the humans there, you can cry, and then we’ll get a free dessert.”

“Why does it matter that the dessert is free?”

“All the sweeter that way.  I’ll let you have it all to yourself.”

“You wily serpent.  This would not be nearly so tempting if I was not madly in love with you.”

“ _Madly_ , are you?”

“Fishing for compliments, are you?”

“Only from you, Angel.”  He pressed gentle, long kisses to his angel’s lips.  “Please don’t ever forget that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have just finished Neil Gaiman's 'Trigger Warnings' and it was a great time. The October Tale was about a woman who found a genie, but she had nothing she wanted to wish for. So the genie is wandering about, waiting to be useful, and she says that if he needs something to do, he could do some chores around the house. Given time, they fell in love. At the end, she asks him, "What would you wish for?" He thought about it and, holding her while they were in bed together, he said that he was content and wanted for nothing.  
> This story did not go like that much at all, but I was still inspired by it.


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